[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-an-improper-monster-girl-s-transformation-diary":3,"chapter-an-improper-monster-girl-s-transformation-diary-an-improper-monster-girl-s-transformation-diary-chapter-431":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"chinese","An Improper Monster Girl's Transformation Diary",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},2312360,4517,"Chapter 431: Special Instruction (8K Subscription Request)","an-improper-monster-girl-s-transformation-diary-chapter-431",431,"\u003Cp>The Mist Knights’ training ground, underground stone chamber.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Few knew that beneath the usual training grounds of the Holy Knights and Wu Seng, dozens of meters below, lay a special stone chamber.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In this sunless depth, a unique battle armor lay quietly hidden in secrecy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Beneath the starlight stones embedded in the chamber’s ceiling, a faint cold glow dyed Zoyla’s brown hair in two tones.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The muscular female knight knelt on the cold stone slab; with just a slight lift of her head, she could clearly see the Holy Armor five steps away.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though called “Holy Armor,” its current appearance bore little resemblance to the name.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The once-gleaming mithril patterns now gathered like dying fireflies into a weak glow at the armor’s chest.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Without this faint residual light, it would long ago have been discarded as broken trash.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“...Guh.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zoyla gazed at the armor with deep reverence, a flicker of excitement and longing in her eyes as she mentally replayed the armor’s origins.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Angel’s Battle Armor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This was an Epic-grade armor from a Battle Angel!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As a loyal believer of the Sun God, she held intense reverence and longing for this lost armor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She longed to become its next wearer.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Why “wearer” and not “master”? Because this armor was no ordinary magical artifact—it was a living being with its own independent consciousness.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Only those it recognized could wear it and receive its protection.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Others, unacknowledged, could not even approach it—just as she now could only watch from afar.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Those rejected by it didn’t merely stay away—they were actively attacked!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zoyla’s current position, five meters from the armor, already indicated slight recognition.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At least the armor’s spirit did not dislike her.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>With more time, Zoyla might truly touch it and become the next fortunate one.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“...Cough, cough.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A weary cough echoed from behind, interrupting Zoyla’s reverie and shifting her expression.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zoyla didn’t need to turn—she knew the stubborn old man knelt five meters behind her.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The chamber held more than just Zoyla; there was another candidate.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The old knight, Morthen.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This knight, eight times her age, was also striving to gain the armor’s recognition.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Most monks in the monastery knew nothing of the Angel’s Battle Armor, but for high-tier Holy Knights like them, it was no secret.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Any Holy Knight who applied could attempt to communicate with the armor, seeking to establish a bond.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But due to the extreme conditions, the monastery had long seen no true recognized wearer.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Most were legendary-level monks who forcibly borrowed its power after brief contact—not truly recognized.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In a sense, Zoyla and Morthen were rivals.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet Zoyla felt no panic.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She knew the old man was no match for her!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though harsh to say, he was merely a rustic knight from the countryside, while she was an elite from the Radiant Holy City of Solanthis.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Mist Monastery did not reject outside monks.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Its monks fell into three groups.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>One group was trained within the monastery itself—mostly orphans or commoners saved by monks.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Another came from outside for various reasons, like Herbert, who was “exiled” here and eventually stayed as a monk.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Others came from other monasteries or divine churches.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>These were the smallest group, mostly temporary or long-term trainees who left after their cultivation ended.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zoyla was such a monk.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As a talented prodigy among the younger generation of the Sun Church, she came to the Mist Monastery at age twenty-two, seeking the Angel’s Battle Armor’s recognition.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Raised since childhood under the Church’s care, bathed in the Sun God’s radiance, Zoyla knew her advantage—her affinity with the armor’s spirit far surpassed his.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Their current positions already revealed the truth.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zoyla entered the chamber much later than Morthen, yet her progress now exceeded his.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Five meters versus ten meters.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Correct.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Advantage is mine!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In contrast to Zoyla’s confidence, the old knight remained calm.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Despite being behind, Morthen still did not give up—he knelt, praying steadily, occasionally advancing a small step.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He ignored the other young man, entirely focused on his own rhythm.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Morthen was well aware of Zoyla’s thoughts—and even held some admiration.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Young knights were proud, combative, confident—none of this was bad; youth should have youth’s spirit.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A young man without fire—was he even young?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But the two-hundred-year-old knight had seen too much; he had lost that sharpness, no longer needing to display his edge.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Morthen’s body was covered in scars, his left eye blinded by a through-and-through wound, making him look fearsome.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In this world, no injury was truly permanent—if enough cost was paid, one could restore to peak condition.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Mist Monastery had no shortage of high-tier priests; restoring his wounds required no sacrifice.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet Morthen refused all help, insisting on keeping his scars.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In his youth, he had been fanatically obsessed with power, believing only these scars could enhance his strength.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though he had long since abandoned that obsession, he still refused to heal.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The aged Holy Knight had grown accustomed to his scars.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Now, he resembled a greatsword whose blade had been worn dull through countless brutal battles.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A greatsword without edge—true mastery needs no artifice.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Was Morthen truly at a disadvantage?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though Zoyla might refuse to accept it, the truth... was otherwise.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If Morthen wished, he could have reached Zoyla’s position long ago—even moved ahead of her.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet he advanced slowly, step by step, refusing to disturb the armor’s spirit.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Perhaps, deep down, he even hoped the young woman would surpass him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Morthen had been waiting.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If Zoyla succeeded in gaining the armor’s recognition, he would gracefully step aside—just barely “one move behind.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This was not deliberate leniency—merely an elder’s quiet guidance to the young.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Morthen had no family; but had he never become a Holy Knight, never joined the monastery, his great-great-great-granddaughter might be Zoyla’s age.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hmm... he simply liked caring for the young.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Without other interference, the two would continue this standoff until one emerged victorious.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But fate had other plans.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Just as Zoyla stood one step from success, a change occurred.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The armor, which had long remained silent and indifferent to their approach, suddenly trembled.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then, the once-dull armor burst into dazzling light!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hum—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The sudden change stunned Zoyla; she snapped her head up, staring at the armor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Huh!?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>What happened?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After initial shock, she quickly grew excited.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Angel’s Armor had reacted—that meant the armor’s spirit had fully awakened.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>!!!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Could this change be because she had just taken another small step?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No—don’t get excited!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zoyla clenched her fists, barely restraining the urge to rise and move forward.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“...Guh.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She remained kneeling, head raised, eyes fixed on the armor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The young woman thrilled, believing she had finally earned the armor’s spirit’s recognition.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Meanwhile, the old man’s expression shifted slightly—he sensed something unusual.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“This... what’s happening?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zoyla was excited, but behind her, Morthen saw clearly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The armor’s spirit had not awakened immediately after Zoyla stepped forward—it changed only one or two seconds later.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The old knight remembered the armor’s spirit’s behavior: it had not awakened—it had been stirred by someone else.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The last time it stirred was three years ago, when a young Holy Knight named Faao had drawn its attention.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But that young man, after attracting the armor’s spirit, never tried to form a deeper bond.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fa Ao believed his strength was still too weak; if he accepted the protection of the battle armor, he would lose all sense of life-and-death peril, making it nearly impossible to achieve significant growth.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the end, he abandoned this rare opportunity, choosing instead to continue honing himself, waiting until his strength was sufficient to try again.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mordon strongly agreed with Fa Ao’s viewpoint—he had held similar thoughts in his youth, though he took it further: he chose the most dangerous fighting style.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mordon never wore armor—not even heavy plate, not even leather.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He fought purely by trading blows for blows, blood for blood.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Perhaps because of this habit, the spirit of the battle armor had no special interest in him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He did not resist it, but neither did he like it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet now, the Angel Battle Armor suddenly erupted with a reaction far more intense than when it had encountered Fa Ao.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hummm!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the center of the stone chamber, the armor now trembled violently, its aura shifting gradually.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Twice as strong?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No—this level of reaction was likely over ten times greater!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mordon pondered, wondering what kind of person could provoke such a fierce response from the armor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What on earth…?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Suddenly, a bold thought flashed through his mind.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Could it be that Fa Ao’s strength had risen into the Legendary realm?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zoyra, waiting ahead, could no longer hold back—she stood up excitedly, moving closer.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Lord Armor, I—hmm?!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The moment she took a step, a force flung her backward, sending her stumbling several paces until she stopped before Mordon.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“This…?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At that moment, Zoyra realized something was wrong—this situation was not as she had imagined.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Could it be… the spirit of the armor was not waiting for me?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You?!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zoyra whirled around, staring at the silent old knight—but received no reply.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At that moment, the old knight had turned his head toward the entrance of the stone chamber.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Noticing Zoyra’s gaze, he asked in a low voice: “Child, did you hear that?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Hear what? I heard nothing… hmm?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zoyra’s expression changed—she too heard the faint sound: “Is that… footsteps? Someone’s coming?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Upon hearing this, Mordon’s expression did not relax—it tightened further.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yes, someone truly was coming.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There was nothing unusual about it; others had equal right to come here.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But the problem was… Mordon heard the footsteps drawing nearer, yet strangely felt no aura at all.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>An unknown presence was slowly approaching.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Had Zoyra not heard it too, he might have doubted whether he was hallucinating.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And as the footsteps grew closer, Mordon’s unease deepened, his muscles tensing gradually.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His old wounds began to throb faintly—this was an instinct honed through years of battle.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He could not determine if the intruder was friend or foe, but one thing was certain… the intruder was extremely dangerous!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The intruder was undoubtedly a Legendary-level powerhouse.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And not just any Legendary.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though Mordon’s official rank was only High Tier, his vast experience had earned him repeated invitations to join Legendary squads, where he had fought and slain multiple Legendary foes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had seen many Legendaries in his lifetime.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This unknown arrival was likely among the most dangerous of all the Legendaries he had ever encountered.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A thought flashed through Mordon’s mind.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“This feeling… could it be a Transcendent?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After a moment’s thought, Mordon slowly nodded.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yes—it must be.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Of all the Legendaries he had ever met, only one—after undergoing the Transcendence Ritual—had ever exerted such pressure on him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though Zoyra felt no intense threat, Mordon’s silence made her tense; she instinctively placed her hand on the hilt of her sword.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The two stood, one on each side, ready and alert, watching the chamber door.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet despite their tension, they were not truly fearful.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Remember—this was the Mist Monastery. The intruder was most likely an ally.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even though they knew this logically, the growing clarity of the footsteps pressed heavier upon them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Tap… tap… tap…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At some point, they seemed to hear a powerful, rhythmic pounding in their ears— their own heartbeats.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That heartbeat seemed to sync with the footsteps, each step landing like a blow upon their chests.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At this moment, the two Holy Knights’ differing reactions revealed their contrasting personalities.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zoyra’s grip on her sword hilt tightened, yet her expression grew calmer.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mordon’s heartbeat slowed, yet his face grew more grim; his blinded left eye flickered faintly with light.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Tap-tap-tap… tap.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As they waited tensely, the footsteps halted before the door—and the outsider politely tapped twice.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Thump… thump.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Two knocks, like blows to the heart, froze the air inside the chamber.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When no answer came, the outsider said nothing, and slowly pushed the door open.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Creak…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As the door began to open, the first to react in the entire chamber was not Mordon or Zoyra.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The first—and most violently responsive—was the Angel Battle Armor at the chamber’s center.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hummmm!!!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Angel Battle Armor, which had shown no interest in either Holy Knight moments before, suddenly shot off its pedestal and lunged toward the figure entering the door.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The armor moved with blinding speed, catching the newcomer completely off guard.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Huh? What’s that?!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Without hesitation, the newcomer raised a hand and slapped the armor’s helmet hard.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Whoosh—SMACK!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Ambush?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>With a confused grunt, the Angel Battle Armor flew backward faster than it had charged forward.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Whoosh—CRASH!!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In Zoyra’s stunned gaze, the armor she had longed for was casually swatted away by the unknown boy, crashing against the wall and scattering into pieces across the floor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>???\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zoyra could no longer maintain her tense expression—her mouth hung wide open.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>…Huh?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At this moment, she didn’t even have time to ask who the newcomer was.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She could only stare, fixed, at the scattered pieces of the Angel Battle Armor—still trembling, still trying to reassemble and charge forward again.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Is this… right?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was like a dog who had worshipped a goddess who always ignored him, only to see that goddess throw herself at another—only to be rejected and shoved into a mud puddle.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For a moment, she didn’t know whether to feel sorrow or joy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Joy: someone else didn’t want his goddess.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Sorrow: even if they didn’t want her, the goddess still didn’t want him—the dog.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Trying to ambush me?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After repelling the attack, Herbert shook his hand and grunted: “Go train some more.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He looked down at the scattered Angel Battle Armor and sneered.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That’s it?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This thing doesn’t even look like anything special.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Under Ophidia’s persuasion, Herbert had ultimately accepted his task to pay a visit to the Sun Church.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He then promptly went to ask Bishop Rustnail for every possible detail, determined to get every detail perfect.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was done—time to go.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Since he couldn’t avoid it, he might as well enjoy it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After all, Nenasha had already assured him he wouldn’t be caught; if anything went wrong, it wasn’t his fault.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As long as his greatest secret remained hidden, this trip was purely beneficial.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Herbert was only going to lend support—not to fight.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As long as he kept a low profile, stayed quiet, and didn’t attract the attention of the Lust Cult, nothing major would happen.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hmm... probably.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Although Herbert vaguely sensed things were unlikely to unfold as he hoped, he decided to pretend he felt nothing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After questioning Bishop Rust Nail, Herbert strolled leisurely to this stone chamber, ready to take the Angelic Battle Armor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But the moment he stepped inside, he was—ambushed!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though he quickly realized the “assassin” was just the armor he intended to wear, Herbert still shook his head inwardly, thinking: “Of course, evil deeds bring their own retribution… no! Beauty is always short-lived—wait, that’s not right either!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Cough, cough. It’s always some villain trying to harm Your Majesty.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Herbert muttered a mental complaint, then looked up at the other two people in the chamber.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His gaze swept over the young female knight once, then settled on the one-eyed old knight.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though this knight possessed only High Rank power, he gave Herbert a feeling no less formidable than a typical Legend.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The two locked eyes, neither speaking first.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mordon still maintained his alert posture, right hand tightly gripping his sword hilt, his good eye fixed on Herbert’s right hand.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Sir, you… oh?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Herbert had intended to greet him, but seeing the old knight’s demeanor, his brow twitched slightly—he realized something.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He felt as if he’d seen a volcano about to erupt, suppressed for years, waiting for a spark.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Or a massive, rotting, broken tree straining to sprout a new bud from its fracture.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Destruction—or rebirth.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mordon was waiting for an opportunity.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“...Heh. Fine.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Herbert smiled faintly, asked nothing, merely nodded to Mordon and chuckled: “If you want to try, go ahead. I won’t mind.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Return kindness with kindness.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The monastery had always treated Herbert well; he wanted to repay them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He didn’t need to ask why, or demand any condition—he was happy to lend a hand to his monastery brethren.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If I am your breakthrough opportunity, then come.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Huh!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Herbert’s permission was like an adrenaline shot for Mordon—he exhaled sharply, nodding vigorously.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The old knight drew his longsword, voice tinged with excitement: “Thank you for your mercy! Forgive my impudence!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mordon took a deep breath and suddenly widened his left eye.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Ha!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>With a low roar, every exposed patch of his skin flushed crimson, fine beads of blood oozing from his countless scars.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Thump-thump! His heart pounded wildly, his body temperature soaring.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His aura surged rapidly, soon nearing that of a common Legend.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mordon sought to reach his peak state, striving to find his breakthrough opportunity!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Morthen needed to bring himself to his peak state, trying to find a breakthrough opportunity!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Just as Mordon gathered all his strength to swing his first strike, the already dismantled armor suddenly floated up, automatically blocking before Herbert.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Just as Morthen gathered all his strength to swing his first sword, the already shattered armor suddenly lifted and automatically blocked in front of Herbert.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The full suit of armor rapidly reassembled, like a hollow angel, faithfully standing guard before Herbert.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Divine Artifact Protects Its Master!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then...\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Tsk! Stop messing around, get out of the way!” Herbert snapped, flicking it away with a palm strike.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>What are you doing blocking me now?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Seriously, no sense at all.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Can’t you see I’m helping someone break through?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The auto-protecting battle armor never expected to be attacked by its own master—it instantly broke down.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Angelic Battle Armor was once again neatly shattered by Herbert’s palm, scattering across the floor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The angelic battle armor was once again shattered by Herbert’s palm, scattering across the ground.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zoyla stared blankly at the scene, unsure what expression to wear.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zoyla stared blankly at this scene, not knowing what expression to wear.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even though Zoyla was a seasoned “fanboy,” even though she’d adored the Angelic Battle Armor since childhood,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Seeing this, her heart still filled with deep doubt.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>What had all her years of devotion truly been for?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Had her efforts been right at all?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And was the Angelic Battle Armor truly that important?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Had she wasted most of her energy on the wrong thing?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Herbert hadn’t expected that two casual swats would shatter a “seasoned fanboy’s” idolization of her goddess.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Indeed, classical mechanics still holds.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The critique of weapons can never match the weapon’s critique.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>With no outsiders interfering, Mordon finally reached his optimal state.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The instant Herbert finished striking the armor and withdrew his hand, Mordon seized the moment and launched his attack.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hold breath, focus mind... strike!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Whoosh—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He unleashed overwhelming power.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mordon channeled every memory of his two-hundred-year life, every pain and rage endured, every insight gained over the years—all into one point.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>From his withered body erupted a terrifying flame, like a volcanic eruption.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His arm whipped like a whip.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The blade carved a crescent through the stone chamber, crashing toward the young boy before him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He’d stayed in this chamber too long—he didn’t know Herbert’s identity or true strength.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But he felt an inexplicable confidence in Herbert.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This boy—no, this Legend, this powerful Ascended One—would surely withstand it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And the result matched his expectation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mordon had done everything he could, pouring his entire life’s skill into this single strike.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet this sword blow, forged from his lifetime’s effort, was effortlessly blocked by Herbert—using only two fingers.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet this sword, which condensed his lifetime of cultivation, was effortlessly blocked by Herbert—using just two fingers.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Herbert pinched the blade’s edge between two fingers with ease.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The motion was effortless, devoid of any martial aura—yet it rendered the Legend-level strike utterly null.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After his strike was caught, Mordon froze in place, not continuing his attack.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He simply stared at Herbert’s fingertips, as if infinite mysteries lay between them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Herbert gently released his grip and asked the still-dazed old knight: “Now, do you understand?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Have you found the feeling you’ve been seeking?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His gentle words jolted Mordon awake—he shook his head sharply, then nodded firmly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Found it... I found it!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mordon bowed repeatedly to Herbert, voice trembling with emotion: “Thank you for your guidance! Thanks to you, I’ve finally felt that sensation!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Having witnessed true power, he felt the century-old barrier that had trapped him had finally cracked open.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For a moment, his eyes grew damp.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>All these years, he’d refused to heal his wounds—partly to stay alert,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But wasn’t it also a form of self-abandonment after losing hope of advancement?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Now, he had finally found his path forward again.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Thanks to your help, sir—I thank you...”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Nothing to thank me for,” Herbert shook his head gently. “It’s not my doing. Your own effort brought this. I did nothing.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Herbert’s words weren’t just modesty—he truly felt he’d done nothing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The breakthrough hadn’t come from Herbert—it came from Mordon himself.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Herbert didn’t know Mordon’s name, his history, his past.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He’d merely stood as a target before a volcano about to erupt.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“...You shouldn’t be so modest.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mordon slowly shook his head—he didn’t believe Herbert had done nothing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He’d met many strong ones; the monastery had no shortage of Legends—but none had given him this feeling.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Heh. Then let’s say it’s that way—if it makes you feel better.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Neither could convince the other, so they silently dropped the subject.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At that moment, the silent female knight finally spoke: “Um...”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mordon suddenly jolted—he realized something.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mordun suddenly startled, and he suddenly realized something.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Herbert’s arrival was clearly for the battle armor, and this was precisely what Zoyla had long hoped for.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bad!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Young knights always have their own temper.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They are upright, holding fast to their own principles.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But they are equally combative, unwilling to yield, convinced they alone are the true chosen ones.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Just as the old knight prepared to stop the young knight and prevent her from acting rashly… Zoyla had already rushed forward, arriving before Herbert.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Child, don’t be rude! You… hmm?” Merton cried out, then his expression froze.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For in his vision, Zoyla had done nothing disrespectful—in fact, she behaved with great politeness.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even excessively so.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The female knight bowed deeply to Herbert and thanked him: “My lord, thank you for your guidance. I realize my mistake.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I should not have wasted my energy on battle armor!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And Herbert, the one she thanked, was… utterly bewildered.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>???\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Herbert: I don’t understand! (Fenghua accent)\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He could understand her gratitude toward him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then what the hell are you?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I never instructed you!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But such an unexpected little scene was no challenge for Herbert.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Hm? Oh, uh, yes.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He paused for only a second, then smiled and nodded softly: “Heh, this is all your own achievement, unrelated to me.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Truly unrelated to me!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Radiant Holy City: Solantis.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Your Holiness, we just received a report: someone has seen the [Lady] again.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hearing the report, the Sun Pope slowly opened his eyes, furrowed his brow, and said gravely:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“She has appeared again?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(End of Chapter)\u003C\u002Fp>",3837,"2026-06-20T12:31:07.945Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","0e03bfa0c46ecc01fdb8f75d02169a963540d2e919b6b88937b1e7dbbe7322a7","an-improper-monster-girl-s-transformation-diary-chapter-432","an-improper-monster-girl-s-transformation-diary-chapter-430",453,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fan-improper-monster-girl-s-transformation-diary-cover.jpg"]